


Dutiful

by Hunter Stu (stunudo)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester Smut, Dean is soft, F/M, He shows her what she wants, PWP, She takes it, Underappreciated reader character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-07 18:22:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20821775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stunudo/pseuds/Hunter%20Stu
Summary: Loverboy Dean has a job to do here.





	Dutiful

It wasn’t that he needed to touch her, it was just that he knew what his hands could do to those thighs. It wasn’t about him, sure they would be smooth and thick in his hands, but that wasn’t why he kept staring. She needed something and he could give it to her. It wasn’t everyday Dean felt he had enough to share. Right now? He had nothing but time.

He didn’t want to insult her, had to take it nice and slow. Let it be her idea. He was used to talking, to bullshitting, flirting even, but this was torture. Her smile never made it to her eyes and he wanted to find whoever had done that and show them what else his hands could do. But that wasn’t what she needed and Dean wasn’t there for their karma. He was there for hers.

Eventually, she started to open up, to relax as he listened. Biting back his salacious thoughts until she was primed and ready. Until she let herself want. The moment it sank past casual and into desire, he saw it in her eyes, dark and spreading. This was not what she had in mind when she walked in here. He nodded as he leaned into her ear. “Sometimes you just gotta let things happen.”

She let out the slightest gasp, her skin prickling beneath his voice as his eyes dragged down her arm. He threaded his fingers in hers and continued.

“How about we see where the night takes us?”

Fuck, he was smooth, that deadly arrogance flared up just long enough for her hesitations to stifle it.

She kissed him first, forceful and fumbling, but he recovered. Hands encasing her soft cheeks as he steadied them both, anchoring yet prodding. Her tongue teased his and he groaned, pulling back with the sinful kind of panting.

“Take me home?” He would have taken her to the moon if she asked.

The car never looked better than with her climbing inside, cheeks bubbling up as that elusive, true smile started to peak through. God what he would to do to keep her like that, for as along as he could. He closed the door gently before rounding the hood and sinking in beside her. He pulled out of the parking lot with a tightening chest, the right mix of anticipation and purpose sizzling through his veins.

She does her best to hide the mess in her bedroom, shouting across the apartment as he settles in with a beer. Again, he’s got time, he doesn’t want her to worry, to be embarrassed. He isn’t here to judge. The conversation still flows, truths almost revealed and subtle sidesteps from each of them. He plays up the case behind them and she doesn’t know what to say, but it must be hard seeing what he does. Law enforcement isn’t easy these days.

“If you’re doing it right, you’re not the bad guy.” he says, but this time he’s the one to look away.

She drops down beside him on the couch, unleashed in her own environment and his hands start to itch again. She props her elbow on the back of the cushions and faces him, legs knotted yet open. She smiles around her own bottle as he rests his on the coffee table. It’s happening. This is what he was waiting for.

He purrs her name and cups her face, her tongue pushes back the last of her beer. Dean watches her catch up, lets her focus before kissing her blind. She is soft now, taking what he gives. He was born for this. And now, he can share it with her. She doesn’t know how to accept everything he is offering, but she rushes to keep up. Hands gripping his biceps as he leans into the kiss. Lips and tongue, searching and pliant, but he is on cruise control. She doesn’t have to hold on, she needs to let go. And enjoy the ride.

His mouth slips up her jaw, open and gasping as they begin, soaking each other into their pores. Her hands are in his hair and his are firmly on her waist, steady goes. She clutches and nuzzles and the chuckle comes out on a hoarse whisper. ‘What do you need, darlin’?’

She doesn’t know, but he is smart enough to guess. His hands snake down to those thighs, pulling so her back is flush to the empty cushion behind her. Her knees cage his chest as he hovers, his mouth hasn’t even left her neck yet. His fingers dig in, memorizing and mesmerizing, he kneads. She whimpers and he hums, eyes catching as she pulls him closer, letting him rest on her fully. Pushing the air from her lungs until she is drunk on the suppression.

He leans back, lets her chest rattle in a few aching breaths before his hands begin to undress her. She can’t watch him, but she kisses him sloppy, lips landing on any speck of skin they can reach. He takes her all in, not forcing the eye contact, but not letting her out of his sight. He sees her and wants her to know it. That it isn’t bad, that he would take it all if he could. He sinks back down, his thin undershirt the only barrier to their paired chests, she arches into him, and he nuzzles into her cooled skin.

“You’re goddamn perfect,” he promises, words tickling her ear. An instant rebuttal surfaces, but he silences it with a tender kiss. She tries again and he adds another. Finally, she starts on his belt. Dean lets the lazy grin fall across his face, watching her again as she struggles beneath him. As she allows herself to want and to take, not just to lay there waiting, hoping it was what he wanted.

He wants her satisfied, and he shows her. Slowly they fumble for the bedroom, lips and hands dragging, tugging, stroking as they go. She doesn’t know how she got there, on top, but she likes the view. He’s gentle in a way that she never expected and she doesn’t know how to do this at her own speed. They don’t usually…. they’re not him. His hands slide over her sides, curving around the small of her back to her ass and round again, resting for a spell on her thighs. Those crooked thumbs pulling just so.

Slowly, she takes all of him, feels him shake and hiss, giving her the best high. She rocks her way down, sinking into him as deep as he is in her. As she sits back he licks his lips, eyes on where they are joined, fingers notching tighter. Her thighs shake in his grasp while she finds their rhythm. Dean knows he’ll be done for soon, but there’s a spark in her eyes now. She’s the one watching him and he is so damn proud. He lets her take him over that ledge, because that’s what she’s after.

“So good, hmmmm,” he couldn’t sound sexy if he wanted to, but it is all music to her ears. She feels him tense and fill her, clenching around him, she huffs in satisfaction. Goofy grins break them apart, but Dean doesn’t let her slink away.

“Uh, where do you think you’re going?” He teases. Her face says everything she doesn’t know how to put delicately. The one and dones of her past, the low expectations she had, but Dean is not accepting any of those excuses. With a groan he drags her feet to his shoulders, nails climbing from ankle to knee, knee to hip as he slides beneath her.

When he pushes her ass up, her eyes bulge out just in time to catch herself against the headboard. Dean can’t help but laugh, stubble burning against her folds at last, he tastes her. She moans and he soothes her, letting her adjust as he leaves wisps of kisses up, over and around. She needs to learn to accept these graces, but he can only show her what he thinks is best. She isn’t ready to ask yet.

He pulls her open and worships her, layer by layer. Long and slow, calculated and calm. She’s trembling and part of it is fear and part of it is how good he is at this, but it’s all stacking up to something beautiful. She white knuckles the headboard and calls out to god, the ceiling, the lords of language. He laps her up and locks her in place. Fingers snaking under his chin, filling her again. Dean can’t get her to watch him, but her shaking tummy and swaying breasts are their own reward. He was never one to turn down seconds, especially of dessert.

Her voice reaches an octave it didn’t know existed and he is hard once more. Watching her crumble open on top of him is more than his mind can compartmentalize. She gasps as she drenches his fingers, hands falling to his hair, she yanks before diving away. Dean lets her this time, knowing she earned the reprieve. He licks his swollen lips and pulls her to his chest, body twitching and folding in on itself. She’s cold to the touch, but Dean’s body won’t accept the cooler temperature. He shifts and drags the end of the comforter over her legs and tucks her in. She’s safe and he’s there, she didn’t know these things were possible. Let alone available.

Dean holds her long and hard, letting the echoes shake through her until she’s ready. Forehead buried in her nape, he practically hears her thinking. The unconscious mewling drifts away as she sleeps, her body spent and mind passed thought. He keeps watching her, in her dreams. Knowing he’s still needed, that he has been granted more time with her. Not that he had earned it, though he had. More that she would look for him in the morning, needing that final reassurance. Dean wouldn’t pass on seeing the relief in her eyes when she found him.

He couldn’t stay, his life wasn’t built for that. But what little he had, he gave it away in spades. He stays until his time runs out. She’s grateful and forever changed.


End file.
